


Body Confidence

by CynicalRainbows



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Body Image, Family Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:41:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24112990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalRainbows/pseuds/CynicalRainbows
Summary: Anne has some....issues to work through.
Relationships: Anne Boleyn & Catherine of Aragon
Comments: 9
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> To be clear, although this was partly inspired by the absolute hell that Courtney Bowman was put through when she joined the cast, it is in no way meant to imply that a) the actress herself does or should have body image issues or b) that anyone should feel this way about themselves, at any size.

‘Just try it!’

The fatal words. 

Anna holds up a green and black bikini with a friendly smile- ‘This would really suit you, the pattern made me think of that shirt you really like-’- and then the others notice and start urging her on- ‘Go on, just try it!’ ‘You said you needed a swimming costume anyway-’ ‘I bet it looks amazing!’. 

She doesn’t want to be rude and refuse outright- what if they decide she’s boring and ungrateful for their attention and stop inviting her places?

She can hear Catalina’s voice in her head- _‘Of course they like you. But you have to meet them halfway, show that you want to be friends too, don’t just shy away from everyone all the time-’_

She’d prefer to actually have Catalina in person over just Catalina’s voice in her head, but Catalina is all the way over in the music department with Maria and Bessie, getting drumsticks and guitar strings.

She’d like to be with them- well, she’d like to be with Catalina, she can take or leave the others, frankly- but it’s not like she needs anything like that herself. 

And she DOES need a swimsuit….

She’d tried to not stare after Catalina too pathetically when Bessie had announced they were going to split off and grab some bits and pieces while the others finished their clothes shopping. It wasn’t like she was being abandoned or anything, she knew that really. 

And it isn’t like she’s so pathetic that she can’t handle hanging out with the other queens on her own.

(Even if she doesn’t know them that well yet, even if every time she looks at them she wonders whether the words ‘whore’ and ‘witch’ come into their heads when they look at her, even if making lighthearted conversation with them feels like she’s putting on a one-woman show that does not end and does not end and _does not end_ ). 

She’s fine really.

Still.

She’d just…..really really like it if Catalina was there.

‘What do you think?’

‘Do you like it?’

‘It’s...nice-’

She’s not lying- it IS objectively a nice bikini. She’d even like it because of the colour and pattern- Anna’s right, it’s very much the sort of thing she’d wear usually- if it wasn’t for the fact that it was a bikini.

And she doesn’t wear bikinis.

Honestly, she doesn’t even like the idea of wearing one-piece swimsuits- she’s covered up with a shirt and shorts on the couple of trips they’ve made to the beach, and even though it had meant that both had gotten soaked through, it had been fine. 

A bikini though….. Is different. Nowhere to hide.

‘We could find you a different one if you don’t like it- Kitty offers. ‘They have all different styles-’ 

(Her cousin- so sweet and so obviously eager to make a connection and so oblivious to the facts that gnaw at her every night when she’s supposed to be asleep- that if she hadn’t soured Henry to Boleyn girls, to Howard girls first, Kitty might never have died the way she did. If she hadn’t whetted his appetite for bloodshed, so to speak. Kitty acts as if she doesn’t hold this against Anne, as if she hasn’t even considered it, and this makes it worse, because she dreads the moment that Kitty puts two and two together.)

‘No, I do like this one-’ At least if she has to try one on, it should be one she likes the colour of. And she does have to try one on- she owes Kitty these small favours at least.

‘Great!’ Cathy is almost bouncing with excitement, and there’s a touch of pathos to it, how badly she obviously wants them all to be happy together, how badly she wants them all to be able to put aside their differences. 

Not that Anne is in any position to judge.

‘You should definitely try it on then! I bet you’ll look amazing!’

It’s hard to smile back at Cathy- she knows she’ll probably look many things in the bikini but amazing is probably not one of them. 

Still….she also doesn’t quite know how to say no without sounding really boring and maybe a bit of a bitch.

Reluctantly, she takes the hanger and lets them sweep her away to the fitting rooms.

_Maybe it won’t be so bad_ , she tells herself. _Maybe it’ll be fine_.

The minute the last of her clothes come off and she feels the cold air on her bare skin, she regrets it. She tries not to look at herself in the mirror but of course she does, there’s no avoiding it. 

The harsh fluorescent light somehow makes her look faded. Her hair is a mess (and she’s seriously regretting not having washed it before she came out) and her body looks…..just wrong. 

Soft in the wrong places. 

Silvery lines running up and down her thighs and hips like scars, and then the thick ugly line beneath her choker.

It’s all wrong. _She’s_ all wrong.

Why did she ever think this would be ok?

‘Anne? Show us!’

The others, oblivious to her growing distress, are giggling on the other side of the curtain.

‘What’s it like?’

‘Come out!’

‘Stop-’ It’s too quiet for them to hear, it’s a whisper, a prayer.

‘Hurry up Anne!’

But no one ever heard her prayers before.

‘We want to see!’

‘Please stop-’

They can’t hear her, and her throat is suddenly too tight for her to be any louder.

Then Jane’s voice, above the others: ‘Anne? Are you changed?’

(She isn’t sure if there’s actually a touch of impatience whenever Jane talks to her or if she’s imagining it. It’s hard to tell.)

She can’t reply.

‘Anne-?’ Suddenly there’s a tinge of worry in Kitty’s voice. ‘Are you ok in there?’

She can’t let them worry, she can’t let this turn into more of a thing than it already is.

(She was known for enjoying attention at court- she counted it as a skill, that she was able to make even very mundane things look interesting to an outsider simply because of how she reacted to them. It drew people in, it made them wonder how they could acquire her zest for living. She enjoyed the attention until she knew better- and by then it was too late. She’s warier now.)

‘Y-yeah-’

Her voice sounds rough and overly loud but they don’t seem to pick up on it.

‘Are you changed?’

‘.....Yes-’

‘Ooh the big reveal!’ Kitty giggles and Cathy announces that she’s going to count to three.

‘One!’

‘Please don’t-’ She’s too quiet, she knows they can’t hear, but she still pleads, quietly, to no one. 

( _No one ever heard her beg, they never heard her plead. They called her self possessed_.)

‘Two!’

Catalina would hear, she thinks. Somehow, Catalina would hear.

‘Three!’

The curtain is jerked back and she can’t help herself- she covers herself with her arms as much as she can and hunches over on herself to cover her stomach. It’s an unthinking, instinctive reaction to being nearly-naked in front of people- but even so, she knows that more of her is on show than any of the others have seen before.

There’s a silence.

The giggles drop off abruptly, the smile slides from Kitty’s face.

They’re all staring at her.

Of course they’re staring. Why wouldn’t they? They’re probably horrified- horrified and relieved that they are not like her, that their own bodies- through hard work or genetics or sheer luck- are different to hers.

They’re probably disgusted.

The silence stretches longer and longer until she can’t bear it a second longer- she grabs for the curtain (humiliatingly, it actually takes her a couple of attempts) and rips it across the rail. 

It’s not as satisfying as slamming a door would be but at least she’s hidden from their eyes,

She sinks down to the scratchy carpet, draws her knees up to her chest and buries her head in her arms. 

Even doing so, she’s aware of herself, of the softness of her body, of there just being more of her.

(Too much. Too much of her.)

Warm tears slide down her cheeks and drip onto her bare exposed skin.

She’d like to disappear, to shrivel up entirely, for there to be nothing left behind when the curtain gets pulled back again. 

Nan Bullen, the girl who died of embarrassment.

There are whispers outside the curtain, but she doesn’t let herself listen. She doesn’t want to hear their jibes and she definitely doesn’t want to hear their pity.

Her position isn’t comfortable and she’s glad of it. She wants her body to hurt, to ache, to bleed- she wants to punish it for being wrong. Digging her nails into the soft skin of her stomach, she imagines tearing off handfuls of flesh, until she’s as small as the rest of them, until she’s the right size-

A sob nearly chokes her and she presses her fingers to her stinging eyes.

She doesn’t want to be here.

She doesn’t want to be anywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

‘Anne?’

Someone is calling her name.

‘Anne?’

It’s Catalina. But it’s Catalina five minutes too late.

_ Where were you? _ She thinks.  _ Why weren’t you here? _

(She isn’t sure exactly what Catalina would have done; she just knows, without question, that this wouldn’t have happened if Catalina had been there.)

Of course, it isn’t really Catalina’s fault. 

It isn’t Catalina's fault she’s so disgusting. It isn’t Catalina’s fault she’s so pathetic.

A sob rises in her chest.

‘Anne, mija, can I come in?’

Ridiculously, she still has it in her to feel the usual little glow of happiness at the endearment. 

It’s silly she knows, since it’s not like it’s particular to her (she’s heard Catalina use it for all the others at least once) but even so, it’s a nice reminder that things are ok between them, that Catalina really has forgiven her, that Catalina at least is  _ on her side _ .

(It’s nice, the knowing that someone is on your side, that they have your back. It’s nice and it’s also new.)

Still, endearment or not, she wants to say no- she doesn’t want Catalina seeing her like this. 

She doesn’t want to think of Catalina having this picture of her in her head. She wants to say no- but she also doesn't want Catalina to go away (she  _ really _ doesn’t want her to go away), so she just settles for staying quiet.

‘Anne-’ Catalina has moved closer, Anne can see the shape of her against the flimsy curtain, but she doesn’t just pull it open herself, although she easily could. ‘You’re going to need to come out eventually.’

She wants to hate Catalina for being so blunt- but she can’t, it’s just how the woman is. 

Honest.

_ Sincere. _ Unlike her,  _ the schemer, the fabricator, the lying whore _ …. She bites down on her lip until the pain forces the voice in her head away.

There’s a pause.

‘You can’t stay in there forever, Anne.’ 

She’s right and Anne hates it. 

‘.....I don’t want you to see me.’

‘ _ Please _ , mija.’

It’s the stupid name that does it- she can’t ever say no to Catalina when she calls her that, and she thinks Catalina knows it too, although to her credit, she doesn’t abuse the power.

She doesn’t bother to unfold herself, just stretches out a hand and bats grumpily at the curtain so that a gap opens up.

It’s all the welcome she can summon up right now.

She’s absolutely dreading seeing the look on Catalina’s face when she sees her….. but when the woman slides into the changing cubicle- pulling the curtain back only just enough to allow herself to enter- she’s moving a little clumsily. 

She missteps and bangs her elbow against the cubicle wall.

‘Ow,  _ joder _ -’

(She never learnt Spanish but even she knows what  _ that  _ means.)

It takes a second for Anne to realise- Catalina has her eyes closed.

She has her fucking eyes closed.

‘Are- are you ok?’

‘Never better-’ Catalina’s still clutching her elbow. She pauses. ‘I’d really rather not tread on you, Anne….You’re going to have to give me some direction or this might take a while-’

The sight of Catalina- standing awkwardly in the tiny room, one hand held out to feel her way- makes an unexpected laugh bubble up through her tears: the whole thing is just so  _ silly- _

‘Fine-’ Catalina huffs a bit. ‘Don’t help me then- I shall just follow the laughter-at-my expense...’ 

One hand brushes the top of Anne’s head and Catalina manages to maneuver herself down to sit beside her. ‘That was...harder than I expected. Please, for me, next time, can you choose somewhere with a bit more space? Just a request...’

It feels weird, even with Catalina’s eyes shut, to know that she's sitting with her in hardly any clothes while Catalina is fully dressed.

It’s like a weird role reversal from being her lady in waiting, except as ever, Catalina is the one with the power.

She can feel her bare skin press up against Catalina’s shirt and jeans. It feels strange and she sniffles a bit.

God. She can’t even wipe her face on her sleeve. She doesn’t even  _ have _ a sleeve.

Luckily Catalina hears her and digs in her pocket for a crumpled tissue, which she passes clumsily in Anne's general direction.

‘Here-’

‘Thanks-’

‘So…..’ Catalina shifts a bit and after a couple of attempts, wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close. ‘Talk to me. What’s the matter?’

She shakes her head, half laughing, fresh tears stinging her eyes.

‘I have no idea what you’re doing.’

Of course. Her eyes are still shut.

She draws a shuddery breath. ‘Nothing happened.’

‘Ok, so you’re telling me you just decided to hide in a changing room for no reason?’

‘No.’

‘Then explain it to me.’

When she hesitates, Catalina tightens her hold.

Anne turns enough that she can burrow into her, breathing in her familiar safe smell of incense and shampoo. It’s nothing like the incense used in the court chapel of course, but it’s still nice- it reminds her that Catalina knew her before she knew any of the others, even Cathy, her own goddaughter.

(She purposefully does not let herself think of their relationship in their past life in any other way. She knew Aragon  _ first  _ and she makes that be enough.)

‘Go on-’

Her response is muffled slightly by the fact that her face is hidden in the crook of Catalina’s neck.

‘What was that?’

‘-’

‘Again?’

She moves back a fraction of an inch. ‘I said….isn’t it obvious?’

‘Well, since I am asking you…..no.’

She feels a flicker of anger that she’s being forced to add to her humiliation by saying it out loud:  _ why is Catalina pretending to be so oblivious? _

‘I’m sitting on the floor of a sketchy changing room in a bikini...Me….in a bikini-’ She gives a harsh laugh. ‘As if that isn’t ridiculous enough….’

Catalina's hesitates, and Anne would swear that she could hear her mind whirring as she tries to find the right thing to say. It makes her feel a bit sorry for the woman actually, that she’s been dragged away from her shopping and forced to play therapist when really, there’s nothing that can be said or done to help.

She just looks wrong and that’s a fact.

She sighs. ‘It’s ok.’

‘What is?’ Catalina looks wrong-footed.

‘.....You don't have to say anything, I know there's no response you can really give-’

It’s frustrating: her attempt at sounding nonchalant isn’t quite working out, her voice is a lot less steady than she would like.

‘I know what I look like, I know-’ Her voice cracks pathetically ‘I know how- how I look-’

There’s a pause and then Catalina’s whole face softens in sympathy.

‘Oh Anne-’

‘It’s fine, it- I-’ Tears spill over. ‘I know, I just...don't like being reminded, I don’t like-’ Her face contorts. ‘I don't like people to  _ see _ -’

It’s almost a wail and it makes her despise herself, but rather than being pushed away and told to stop with the self pity like she probably deserves, she's being bundled into Catalina’s arms and pulled against her chest almost fiercely.

‘Oh Anne…’ Catalina sounds genuinely anguished, which is rare. ‘Oh mija, you are beautiful,  _ beautiful _ …’

‘I'm not-’

‘You are-’

‘You're just-’ She chokes down a sob. ‘You're just saying that- because you have to. Because you have to be nice-’

‘I’m not just saying it-’

‘Of course you are!’ She can’t hold back the anger in her voice, which in itself is unusual- she never usually gets cross with Aragon (she doesn't  _ let _ herself get cross with Aragon.) ‘It’s what everyone says, but we all know it’s not true, so why can’t you just  _ admit _ it?’

‘Because it isn’t!’

‘Catalina, I KNOW!’ She never raises her voice (at least, not in this life, she’s learnt her lesson) but she can’t help it. ‘It doesn’t HELP when you lie, you know that right? It doesn’t make me feel GOOD, it doesn’t make me feel BETTER… It just makes me think you’re….blind or, or stupid or-’

‘I am not lying!’ Catalina looks almost hurt. She’ll probably feel guilty for that later.

‘See?! You’re lying even now- because it makes you feel better, because it’s less awkward than for you to agree that really, I’m just a bit fucked up-’

‘Anne!’ Catalina pulls away abruptly, almost angrily- but she still keeps her eyes resolutely closed. ‘Stop this! You may say whatever you like but that does not mean I have to agree with you!’

‘But-’

‘Have I ever lied to you?’ She holds Anne by the shoulders at arms length, meeting Anne’s teary eyes with her own clear, calm unblinking gaze.

‘Well-’

‘ _ Have _ I?’

‘No.’ It’s quiet and reluctant but audible. She wonders how Catalina is able to reduce her to a sulky teenager so easily. Perhaps because Catalina has actual memories of her as a teenager. ‘But-’

‘No, now you will listen-’ She sounds almost angry, her eyes burn. ‘I refuse to let you….see yourself as something you just are not! I refuse, do you hear me?’ 

(Anne wonders if the spirit of Isabella of Castille is urging her daughter on proudly, as she harangues Anne in the changing room of a slightly dilapidated H&M.)

‘You are beautiful and even if you refuse to believe me, I shall just keep on so-’ She huffs an angry breath. ‘-so you might as well accept that now.’

She’d like to let herself be comforted by Catalina’s indignant anger but she just can’t- it’s too much, it’s too forceful, it just makes her feel as if she’s been scolded for letting herself have the wrong feelings.

She’s too fragile to be able to hear anything but chastisement in Catalina’s tone; fresh tears sting her eyes and her throat aches.

‘Catalina-’ Her voice is a thin, wavery thing. ‘Catalina...I’m sorry, I - I just hate myself so much. I hate how I look, I hate all of it, I just want to-’ She gulps. ‘I want to just….disconnect myself from it. All of it.’

‘I know.-’ Her voice is suddenly almost painfully tender. ‘I know.’

She doesn’t sound angry, just very very sad.

‘I wish- I wish you could see yourself as I do. Your beautiful smile- it is infectious, mija. Your beautiful eyes. You always look so  _ full  _ of life, even your  _ hair _ is vivacious- looking at you is a tonic, you have always been able to make people want to look at you just because you look so full of happiness, so full of vitality-’

She wants to explain how much of it is a front, a show- she wants to explain that Catalina must be mistaken. She like to explain it calmly, but instead all she can manage is a broken choking whisper.

‘I- I can’t see any of that…’

‘I know, mija. But it is there, you know. It is.’

The certainty in Catalina’s voice brings the tears back again. 

She draws Anne back into her arms and she buries her face in Catalina’s neck, utterly humiliated and utterly unable to stop herself from burrowing as close as possible to the woman. 

God, she’s such a mess. She’s ruining the trip, ruining Catalina’s day. And all over a stupid swimsuit.

‘I’m sorry, I wish I could be-’ She can’t find the word. ‘-better…. Less stupid over all of this-’

‘No.’ Catalina sounds firm but she doesn’t let go or pull back this time, just holds her more tightly. ‘You don’t need to apologise. You are perfect as you are. We all love you and if you don't love yourself….well, we all have things that are hard, god knows. We can all help each other.’

Privately, Anne can’t imagine anything that will be enough to change her feelings about herself, and she definitely can’t imagine even looking the others in the eye after this, let alone actually discussing personal private things with them like they’re nothing….but she nods anyway. 

It would feel rude to argue. 

And honestly, all she wants is for Catalina to keep holding her- it’s helping her not think about what an absolute embarrassment of a person she is.

‘And until then-’ Catalina starts to sway back and forth very gently, arms still around her. ‘I’ll just...take care of all of that for you.’

She says it as easily as she’d offer to do a load of laundry or take over doing the washing up, like it’s some simple chore that can be delegated if necessary and not Anne’s entire self image.

‘I dont think thats how it works-

’Of course it is.’ Catalina sounds so certain and sure of herself, it’s sort of reassuring, but then again, she always does. ‘I know you’ve been going to check on Kitty when she has trouble in the night.’

‘Yes?’ She isn’t sure what Catalina is getting at. Of course she checks on Kitty- their rooms are side by side after all, and she sleeps so lightly now that it’s no trouble to pop her head around the door when she hears Kitty crying out and wake her up from whatever fresh hell the poor girl's sleeping mind has concocted that night. 

And then since she’s already there, sitting with her until she can fall asleep again is hardly a lot of effort. Honestly, it’s easier for her than their daytime interactions because she isn’t required to say or do anything, so there’s no way she can say or do the wrong thing which, if left to herself, she inevitably would, probably sooner rather than later. 

She hasn’t found a way to have an actual real conversation with Kitty yet but she hopes that she recognises her midnight sojourns for what they are- proof that she still cares, even if she doesn’t know how to say it.

‘And you pretend to be tired to encourage Cathy to come to bed at a reasonable hour?’

She nods, slightly annoyed at herself- she thought she was being subtle in her attempt at encouraging Cathy to actually sleep. It doesn’t always even work but her subterfuge, even if it isn't terribly imaginative, is better than watching the poor girl stumble wearily through rehearsals on a litre of coffee. 

She still doesn’t see where Catalina is going with this. 

‘And you help Jane when there is something to be read quickly, you defended Anna when she had those people writing those things about her-’

‘We all did-’

It’s true. Only an absolute idiot would have managed to miss Jane’s obvious discomfort with written words, her rising panic when forced to read something under pressure or observation, the way she stumbles over words and hesitates and glances around anxiously like she’s looking for an escape, any escape.

And only an absolute sadist would be able to resist the urge to jump in to help whenever possible- to distract, to assist, to be a buffer between the blonde woman and the world’s impatience. 

And how could she not have joined in with the others in cutting the online trolls down to size when they picked on Anna? It had been painful to see how obviously affected the normally almost aggressively sunny and laid-back Anna had been by the relentlessness of it- relentless at least until they’d been well and truly beaten down by the combined efforts of the other five.

‘So? What’s that got to do with anything?’

‘And you….well, how you helped me at the beginning-’

‘What do you mean?’

Why is Catalina even bringing that up, why is she violating the unspoken promise they’ve all made to never ever refer to what Anne privately thinks of as ‘The Bad Time’ ever again? 

Even in her own head, she doesn’t like to remember them for too long. 

They’d all been shaky and fragile during the very first raw days and so it was unsurprising that Catalina had taken her new knowledge of her daughter so hard. It had been a mistake for them all to immediately jump into researching what they could about their families- they should have waited, been more careful, she knows that now.

But no one could have predicted what dark, shameful, bloodied facts were waiting for them, nor that they would push the Spanish queen into a sadness deep enough to carry her far, far away from them, from the brave new world they found themselves in, from life itself.

She remembers coaxing spoonfuls of soup and water between Catalina’s lips, sitting beside the motionless figure in the bed for hours with Catalina’s cold, still hand in hers, and agonising silently and endlessly about what should be done. 

The others had been divided and she’d been afraid to make things worse by joining in the arguing, so instead, she’d just kept her own private vigil at the bedside of the woman she owed a lifetime of apologies to. And when, after days and weeks of crushing, suffocating anxiety, Catalina had finally looked at her with unclouded eyes and gripped her hand so tightly it hurt, she’d finally been able to let out the breath she’d been holding ever since Catalina had taken to her bed.

Catalina huffs like she’s being stupid on purpose. But she still doesn’t pull back, even though Anne clings a bit tighter just in case.

‘I mean that you help us, so we’ll help you. We will help you believe it, mija.’

She makes it sound so easy. Perhaps Catalina picks up on her silent skepticism.

‘It’s like-’ She pauses, groping for the name. ‘That film that Kitty had us watch….the little wooden child….the nose that grows….’

‘Pinnochio?’

‘Yes!’ Catalina sounds jubilant. ‘The silly puppet- and the little...the strange green insect man-’

‘Yes?’

Her tears are drying on her cheeks, she’s so  _ confused _ -

‘Well, I'll be that. He was the conscience so I'll be your….horrifying grasshopper. Yes?’

The way Catalina says it, like it makes sense, just confuses her more, but then again, she’s always been able to do that, make anything she says sound serious and sensible, even when it’s utter nonsense.

‘What?’

Catalina sighs impatiently. ‘I will be your….your self esteem, until you can do it yourself. You can….think what you think, but _ I _ will know that you are beautiful. And perfect. I will remind you of it and I will know it for both of us until you can know it yourself. Alright?’

It’s a touching idea, she has to admit. Amusing, too.

The image, the ridiculousness of it makes her want to laugh, despite everything, but she can't let herself get sidetracked.

‘What if…’ It’s hard to ask, most of her wants to keep up the lightening mood, to let Catalina comfort her, but she can’t, she knows that if she doesn’t ask Catalina this now, it’ll play on her mind forever after. ‘What if….it takes a long time?’ 

Catalina tilts her head, half smiling. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

‘What if-’ It’s what she’s most afraid of but not for her own sake. For Catalina. For anyone else who ends up trapped and hostage to her own stupid, pathetic insecurtieis. ‘What if I can’t ever do it for myself? What if I never believe it?’

It’s the question that makes her heart squeeze as she asks it, as she all but admits to being a Lost Cause, a hopeless case. She’d like to be able to sidestep it, but she can’t- she’d rather get it over with now, if Catalina is going to have second thoughts about being the person that Anne automatically looks to for help. 

(She’d rather know now than wait for Catalina to turn against her like Henry did, she’d rather not be taken unawares this time.)

(She’s promised herself she’ll never let that happen again.)

But Catalina doesn’t miss a beat.

‘I said I’m not going anywhere, mija.’ 

Her hand finds Anne’s and squeezes it, and Anne finds she’s clinging to it desperately.

‘You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Alright?’ She nudges Anne gently with her shoulder.

‘Alright?’

‘Alright.’


End file.
